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Zdeslav
In-game knowlege *Of all Kindred, longest in Zagreb *Seneschal of Camarilla until 1981. when he left Kindred politics *Flirty *Involved with the theater *After being wrongfully accused of Sabbat allegiance, with help he cleared his name *Back in good graces of the local Camarilla *Kicked out of Zagreb after catastrophic job as Keeper of the Elysium, under the threat of Blood Hunt and permitted Diablerie The Harpy Rumors *Wrote a comedy play for then Seneschal-now Prince Darius * Not much is known about this "Old Timer of Agram". Is that a purposed skilled fabrication or is there simply nothing to know? One can wander to dark places following this train of thought... * He exchanged his signature plastic rose for a .50 Desert Eagle. One might wonder, where is Our gracious Pavlov of olde? Have the times changed him so much or is this a side of him we have not yet seen? Whatever the case is - the rose has thorns now, and the thorns apparently have eyes impaled on them. Assistants eyes. * Rumour has it that - the local kindred are slow to apply to the office of "Keepers assistants", the last one saw the sunrise for breaking the Masquearde. What might the next one do? An even bigger scandal? Not exactly fun if you ask me. The rule breaking, not the scandals or the sun-bathing. View From Within: Matthew 7:15. This is who I am. A false prophet. A wolf in sheep's clothing. I have been hewn down and cast into the fire. Denied the Kingdom of Heaven. And I enjoy it. Facilis descensus Averni... I'm an artist. Art is about manipulation. By evoking certain feelings - aesthetic appreciation, symbolic appreciation, emotions as desired by artist, even shock and disgust, artists are the best manipulators. But what separates amateurs from maestros is not just a skill in doing things. It is the vision. A vision to be the first one to do something, and to evoke most powerful emotions. To be ahead of the pack in every possible way. I write to evoke what I want. I speak to evoke what I want. I look a particular way and wear particular things for a purpose. Zagreb is controlled by different Kindred now than it was a year ago, or two years ago. Only myself and Ranko remained. Many would say that the Princess was too merciful, allowing too many new Kindred to join our domain. The truth is, she had no choice - she was outnumbered, and she could either swim in those waters or face a coup. Maintaining the illusion of control when you have almost none often works, and I used the same trick myself. The coup eventually came before her power was reestablished. But at least she's still somewhere. If she was executed I'd be sorry, I think. VanPatten was a strong prince. Perhaps too strong, like an oak on the wind which finally toppled him down. I manuevered myself back to power during his reign, but so did Darius and Cyrus. They are players and artists too, making others underestimate them. Young ones still continue to dance to our tunes, neither seeing nor understanding how they dance to our tunes, how they have no choice at all. Sometimes I envy them. They are still free to say what they mean to say, wear what they wish to wear, and do stuff the way they do them without even the slightest understanding about how will it be seen by others around them. Without awareness of how everything about them changes everyone else's reactions and opinions ever so slightly. But then I remember they're still pawns, used with or without being aware that they are and how meaningless their little plots are. Quod licet Iovi, non licet bovi. Why do I still hate them then? Pawns had an illusion of choice when Darius was confirmed as the new Prince. But by that time, all the choice was gone. The vote was a cage masquerading as freedom, and the look on many a Primogen revealed that. Stepping against Darius that evening would be suicide, and all knew it. So, I'm better off spreading my influence as much as possible in the current situation. But sooner or later he will get toppled, by someone who will just have enough of the Lasombra - and I'll have to be mindful when it happens. Bellum se ipsum alet. And until that time, I must not dig a hole for myself, or allow one to be dug under my feet. Plan for every outcome. Have multiple failsafes. And never show the world your true face - wear a mask always find a way to gain advantage by everything you do. Carpe diem. Am I an artist or an art piece? Or do I enjoy l'art pour l'art? It's hard to say. Nobody knows me like me, and it's better to stay that way, it's better that nobody finds out. I miss the opportunity to talk to someone about all that. When I take a mortal to feed, sometimes I whisper to them while they're dazed by the Kiss. I like to imagine that they listen and understand. But of course, I'd have to kill everyone who does. Sometimes I miss the old days. No wait. I miss the memory of the old days. My mortal life wasn't particularly pleasing or fulfilling. Perhaps I miss being relaxed. I remember that used to be pleasing. I remember that once I used to care instead of only pretending to do so. Tempus fugit, aeternitas manet...